


you come around

by ghosthunter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, andre has two sugar daddies, polyam swedes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:10:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14202780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: When the season starts, Nicke isn’t prepared for the full force of Andre’s attention. And as much as Nicke loves him, and as many things as Nicke is actually good at in a relationship, dealing with Andre’s overflowing emotions is not one of them.Then there’s Christian.OR: relationships come and go but Andre being a brat is a constant.





	you come around

**Author's Note:**

> big ups to [sunshinexbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb) for beta reading and cheerleading and generally not telling me to shut the fuck up when i get in my feelings about polyamorous swedes. can be read as a standalone or there's more [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898900), which is basically the same verse.
> 
> in other news: i have a thing i like and i'm sticking to it, because if you can't indulge yourself, who can you indulge?

When the season starts, Nicke isn’t prepared for the full force of Andre’s attention. He’s used to being Andre’s boyfriend, sure, but he’s not used to being Andre’s only boyfriend. Well, not Andre’s only boyfriend, but the one that’s physically present when he needs to hang all over and off of someone, and as much as Nicke loves him, and as many things as Nicke is actually good at in a relationship, dealing with Andre’s overflowing emotions is not one of them.

Having Marcus on Facetime isn’t enough after Andre finds out he has to have surgery. Things just take a turn for the worse once Marcus isn’t able to sit on the phone with them, even though he answers when they call. It’s brief and Nicke knows what it’s like to deal with a concussion, but it makes Nicke feel like their relationship isn’t going to last, which is an unfair thing to think about his concussed boyfriend who doesn’t feel like sitting on the phone with him because he wants to lie in a room in the dark and sleep.

Maybe Andre isn’t the only one who is dramatic.

Then there’s Christian.

Nicke likes Christian. He’s happy to take him under his wing as much as he can as a mentor, but he’s not interested in him as anything past a friend and a teammate. And Andre, well… Andre seems to be interested in a lot more than that.

Andre leans his head against Nicke’s hip on the couch as they watch TV, Nicke’s fingers buried in Andre’s hair. Nicke’s half asleep, and Andre’s texting intermittently. Eventually, he tilts his head and turns to look up at Nicke.

“Would you be upset if I had,” Andre starts, and Nicke opens his eyes and looks down at him. Andre’s biting his lip, rethinking what he was going to say. “I want to.” He stops again, chews on his lip, thinking. Then he twists, and sits up, running a hand over his hair to smooth it back down from where Nicke’s fingers have been tangled in it.

“Just say it,” Nicke says.

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you,” Andre says. “But I want… more. I miss Jojo.”

“I do too,” Nicke says. “But.”

“But I like when. Christian kind of - “ Andre shrugs. “I know that you don’t get anything out of it because you don’t. You don’t like - you don’t like what I do.”

“That’s okay though,” Nicke says. “We’re not exclusive. We never have been. But the three of us… I don’t know. I don’t think it’s just me that has to be okay with it.”

“I need to call Jojo,” Andre says. “But I don’t want to break up with him. I just want - I don’t know what I want.”

“Let’s go upstairs to bed,” Nicke says. “And we’ll call Marcus and talk this through. Because whatever your feelings are, if you’re still in a place where you’re saying you don’t want to break up with him, then he should know what you do want.”

Andre nods, and Nicke exits Netflix and turns off the TV and they head upstairs, stripping down to slide between the blankets. It’s late enough that Nicke just texts Marcus to see if he’ll answer if they call, or if he actually feels up to Facetiming with them.

It takes longer than Nicke would want, but finally Marcus is on the phone, his hair messy from laying in bed and his face sleepy. Nicke’s surprised he woke up, but Nicke loves the way Marcus looks, sleep mussed and pale skin against his sheets, nothing visible but his chain against his collarbones.

“How are you feeling?” Nicke asks first, because that’s more polite than jumping into how one of Marcus’s long-distance boyfriends now wants to bone someone else. Or let someone else boss him around. Or whatever Andre’s interested in doing. Nicke doesn’t know what Marcus is doing in New Jersey, alone, when Nicke and Andre still have each other in Washington.

“Bored,” Marcus says. Nicke watches him blink sleepily as Andre moves into the frame, leaning his head against Nicke’s shoulder so that they’re all able to see each other. “Irritated.”

“Not being able to play sucks,” Andre says. He’s been out for a different reason, but it’s the same situation. At least he’s able to do most other things. Nicke remembers that half his days of concussion were spent lying in the dark because doing much else made his head throb and his stomach churn.

“Not being able to do anything sucks,” Marcus says. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?”

“It’s 10:30, grandpa,” Andre says.

“Hey,” Marcus says. “I’m ill.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Andre says.

“Okay,” Nicke says. “We didn’t call you just to shoot the shit, though.”

“I mean, I hope you had a reason to call this late,” Marcus says. “Even if it’s just phone sex.”

“Oh,” Andre says, perking up.

“Yeah, Andre has some stuff he needs to talk about before we get to that,” Nicke says. Andre’s face falls.

“Oh?” Marcus asks, and he’s frowning now.

“I want to see someone else,” Andre says, and it seems to come out more easily here than it does when he was trying to say it when he was on the couch with just Nicke. Marcus makes some kind of noise on the other end of the line, even though Nicke doesn’t see anything on his face.

“Okay,” Marcus says, his voice carefully neutral. Nicke’s sure this is something that he’s expected since he got the news that he was traded. They’ve talked about it before - he and Nicke have, at least. Nicke doesn’t know if it’s a conversation Marcus has had with Andre.

“Mackan,” Andre says, his voice quiet. “Not because I don’t want to see you but because you’re so far. Because I want more. Because I need more than just Nicke - I think I’m driving him crazy.”

Nicke snort-laughs with surprise, and hears a burst of startled laughter from Marcus as well. 

“Andre likes when Christian tells him what to do,” Nicke finally says. “He wants him to do it on a more intimate basis.”

“Thank you,” Andre says. “We kind of realized that it was kind of. I kind of liked it in kind of. You know, how when you used to take me shopping or when Nicke makes me strip down and fold all of my clothes up.”

“I miss taking you shopping,” Marcus says, and sighs. “I’m not going to stop you if that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?” Nicke asks.

“To not have a concussion,” Marcus says. “For things to be normal. To not have to deal with the inevitable.”

“What’s the inevitable?” Nicke asks, even though he thinks he knows the answer.

“That we all drift apart in our relationship, because we can’t give each other what we want or what we need with this much space between us,” Marcus says. “In case you wondered what I’ve been spending my time thinking about while I can’t look at a screen for longer than ten minutes at a stretch.”

“Is it still that bad?” Nicke asks, frowning.

“No, that’s an exaggeration,” Marcus says. “It’s better than that, now. I just sort of think about it because you guys at the very least have each other. And believe me, I totally understand Andre wanting more, I do. I want more than jerking off while you’re on the screen in front of me. So. So it’s fine.”

“You’re fine with it?” Andre asks.

“Yeah,” Marcus says. “Andre, I want you to be happy, you know?”

“I’m tired of having feelings,” Andre says.

“You just want Nicke to blow you while I say dirty shit,” Marcus says.

“Well, yeah,” Andre says. “If you, you know, feel like it. If you’re medically able to -”

“I’m fine,” Marcus interrupts. Nicke laughs.

“Now that you’re awake,” Nicke says.

“And none for Nicke,” Marcus says.

“All for Nicke,” Nicke says, and twists until he can set his teeth against Andre’s jawline. Andre reaches out and fumbles to put the phone down on the nightstand, propping it up so that Marcus can see what they’re doing. It took them a while to figure out the best way to make this sort of thing work, but now they have a system that works. And a stand for the phone on the nightstand.

“Tell Mackan you’re sorry,” Nicke whispers against Andre’s skin as he tugs him down the bed. “And tell him what you’re going to do for him when he comes back to town.”

 

Christian is a completely different experience than Andre has had before.

Nicke and Marcus are older than Andre, and Nicke especially is disinterested in letting Andre push the brattiness envelope. Andre learned quickly how far he could push Nicke before he had to worry about punishment. Marcus mostly took his brattiness with amusement, and more retaliation than punishment.

Andre makes a game of seeing how big of a brat he can be before Christian will punish him.

Christian reminds Andre of what Marcus was like when Andre first joined the team, quiet and detached, and shy, only it doesn’t shake loose quite as easily and he doesn’t open up quite as much. Underneath the shyness is a sharp wit and a quick hand that whips out and twists through Andre’s hair, gripping hard and tugging him down to whisper “fucking knock it off,” in his ear when Andre starts to get on his nerves.

Thinking about it makes Andre half hard. Nevermind what happens to him when Christian actually does it.

Christian doesn’t have his own room on the road, because he’s a rookie, but nobody ever asks where he is. Swedes hang out with other Swedes all the time, they all went out together from the season before.

Nicke doesn’t go out with them this year, and Christian stays in Andre’s room more often than not. Sometimes, he reads while Andre fucks around on his phone, while the TV is on in the background.

Sometimes, he pins Andre to the bed, one fist tight in his hair, and kisses him hot and hard, and whispers things like “I should refuse to let you come,” into Andre’s ear because Andre’s really pushed him to his breaking point.

Andre loves it.

 

Marcus comes to meet them in New York, because it’s nothing for him to come in from New Jersey while the Capitals are in New York with a day off before they play the Rangers. The Capitals have their dart tournament, and when Nicke lets himself into his hotel room, half drunk from “team building,” which was mostly day drinking and losing at darts, Marcus is waiting for him.

“Have you been here long?” Nicke asks, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it across the bed. Marcus is wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and Nicke feels almost compelled to slip his hands underneath the material.

“No,” Marcus says. “I sat in traffic forever. You think DC traffic is bad? Fuck.” Nicke leans down and kisses the smile off his lips, and Marcus allows Nicke to push him back onto the mattress easily. They have the night together, then Nicke will play against the Rangers and Marcus will go back to New Jersey.

Nicke gets his hands under Marcus’s sweatshirt and his knee between Marcus’s thighs before there’s a knock on the door.

“If that’s Andre,” Marcus says, sitting up as Nicke rolls off the bed and smooths his hair down and goes to answer the door, “tell him I’ll kill him.”

“Not if I kill him first,” Nicke says.

Andre bursts into the room and tackles Marcus back onto the bed, making him grunt and Nicke say, “careful, he’s fragile.” Nicke gets Marcus’s middle finger for his efforts, before Marcus twists and pins Andre easily to the mattress. Andre’s a little drunk, and grinning as he looks up at Marcus.

“Hi,” he says, all teeth. Marcus grins back, then bumps their noses together. Andre kisses him, and Marcus leans in until Andre’s hands are fisting in the back of Marcus’s sweatshirt.

“Excuse me,” Nicke says. “I thought you had plans.”

“Oh,” Andre says, twisting his face away from Marcus, flushed from exertion and his skin red with beard burn. “Nicke didn’t tell me you were coming though.”

“It was last minute,” Marcus says, and brushes a thumb across Andre’s lower lip, his eyes following the path. “I got some news worth celebrating. And conveniently, my boyfriend is in New York this weekend.”

“Oh?” Andre says. “Like, what?”

“Cleared to practice with the team,” Nicke says.

“Finally,” Marcus says. Andre lights up and kisses him hard.

“That’s so good,” Andre says. “Are you going to get to play before the end of the season? Playoffs?”

“Don’t know,” Marcus says. “But anything’s better than skating by myself.”

“Skating by yourself is _so_ boring,” Andre says. He hooks his fingers into the edges of Marcus’s jeans. “Does that mean you’re going to come to DC?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I’m not cleared for contact or for play,” Marcus says. “Believe me, I’ll let you know when I know.”

“You didn’t tell me about this,” Andre says. He pouts, sticking out his lower lip.

“I told Nicke,” Marcus says. “You never call me.”

“He’s busy,” Nicke says. “Christian’s a lot stricter than you are.”

“He pulls my hair a lot,” Andre says. Marcus makes a soft noise at the back of his throat, curiosity.

“Is that what you want me to do?” Marcus asks, tipping his head slightly, looking at Andre seriously. He rests himself on his elbows, and tangles a curl around one finger, tugging slightly. “Does he let you act like a brat? Or does he tell you to stop acting like a baby the way Nicke does?” 

“Oh, he lets him,” Nicke says.

“Not very good discipline,” Marcus says. Andre’s eyes are closed and his lips are parted. Marcus’s voice is barely more than a whisper. Nicke is close enough that he can hear, that he can see the way Andre’s face and body react to what Marcus is doing to him.

“He doesn’t let me get off if I’m too annoying,” Andre manages to whisper. The statement is in direct opposition to where Nicke can see Marcus’s hand slipping between their bodies, the catch in Andre’s voice as Marcus touches him.

“I’d never be so mean,” Marcus says, his mouth pressed against the skin just below Andre’s ear. The words are mostly muffled, and Nicke is almost holding his breath as he watches. Discipline keeps Nicke from touching himself as he watches them, Marcus whispering into Andre’s skin, his mouth on Andre’s neck as his hand works between them. Andre makes the worst faces when he comes, but Nicke loves him, anyway.

They send him off to his date, still drunk, dazed, and thoroughly debauched.

Nicke follows Andre to the door and flips the latch behind him before returning to Marcus and what Andre interrupted when he arrived. Marcus is stretched out on his back, still dressed, the same as Nicke. Nicke rests a knee on the bed beside him and pushes Marcus’s sweatshirt and t-shirt up, and he moves, pliant under Nicke’s hands to pull his clothes off.

“I forgot what it feels like to watch you do that to him,” Nicke says, breaking a silence that’s been filled with the sound of their breathing as Nicke works them both out of their clothes. “God I miss watching you with him.”

“It’s not the same as watching you with him,” Marcus says. His eyes are closed, head leaned against the pillows. Nicke can’t resist setting his teeth against the pale skin over Marcus’s collarbones while Marcus’s fingers tangle up in his hair.

 

Andre is a mess when he lets himself into his hotel room. Christian is waiting for him, sat on the end of the bed tapping intently at his phone. He looks up, glancing at Andre, then back down. Then he does a double-take.

“What happened to you?” Christian asks him. Andre walks over to the bed and climbs up, stretching out and curling around Christian until he can put his head on Christian’s lap. Christian’s hand automatically comes to rest on top of Andre’s messy hair.

“Jojo,” Andre says, because that’s really the answer to everything. Christian raises an eyebrow. “He came to visit Nicke. And, well.”

Christian doesn’t say anything, and eventually, it makes Andre start to fidget, in spite of his post-orgasm haze.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“That you hooked up with your boyfriend?” Christian asks. “No.”

“Then what?” Andre asks.

“Are you planning on staying in these gross clothes all night, or do you want to clean up so we can go to dinner?” Christian asks. Andre looks up at him, blinking, but he doesn’t move. “Well?”

“Are you going to take me to dinner?” Andre asks.

“Not with jizz in your pants,” Christian says.

Andre feels his face go red and he rolls off the bed and goes to shower.

 

The sun has barely started to filter through the thin hotel room curtains when Nicke wakes up. It’s before his alarm, but he knows that he needs to be up and showered and see Marcus off before he has to be down for breakfast with the team.

He stretches, and looks at Marcus asleep next to him, curled up on his side, his hair falling in a tangle across his face, lips parted as he continues to sleep, sheets and blankets pushed down and leaving his upper body bare. Nicke grabs his phone off the nightstand to learn that it’s still hours before his alarm. He also has a bunch of text messages, but only one that he’s interested in reading.

It’s from Christian.

_What the fuck did you do to him?_ is all it says. Nicke grins, then puts his phone back down before rolling over and sliding his arms around Marcus, closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow me on twitter to listen to me freak out about fic (and hockey boys in general) [here](https://twitter.com/notedgoon).


End file.
